


Dreams are Revelations

by Feathraly



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Break Up, M/M, these two are terrible at feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:57:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feathraly/pseuds/Feathraly
Summary: Enjolras always has the worst timing.At first, he thinks it's because he yells something inconsequential and hurtful and ultimately, something he doesn't mean to Grantaire.The phrase in question is: "We're not good for each other!"





	Dreams are Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> this is baby's first spicy fic so...be gentle pls. also, hi, I fell into this fandom and I can't get up
> 
> tysm for the initial read & encouragement, [Ember](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmberGlows), and I hope y'all enjoy <3

Enjolras always has the worst timing.

At first, he thinks it's because he yells something inconsequential and hurtful and ultimately, something he doesn't mean to Grantaire.

The phrase in question is: "We're not good for each other!"

The events leading up to this are as follows: a long day at work for both of them, Enjolras worn out from running around and putting fires out all day and Grantaire snappy and tired from dealing with picky clients, an attempt at civility and date night that consisted of a movie, until one of them made an off hand comment and the other snapped a response and their argument had a harshness to it that cut deep and was clearly personal.

And then Enjolras decided to cut straight to the root of it, and really, before he said it he felt like he was just pointing out the obvious, the small things that made them rub each other the wrong way and caused too much friction that always escalated past the point of no return. 

But then Grantaire's face crumples for a moment and Enjolras knows he's broken some fundamental part of their precariously balanced relationship. 

Grantaire pulls on a mask of indifference quickly, but Enjolras knows him too well. He catches that moment and he knows what it means and he aches, suddenly, desperately, but he doesn't know what he aches for until a flicker of anger shifts onto Grantaire's face and he says, "Is that what you think?"

Enjolras clenches his fists and resolutely doesn't answer, just stares at Grantaire. The air sparks with tension, and then, as always when they argue, they seem to pull each other in, despite the polarity of their views, and then in the blink of an eye, before he knows it, they're messily making out.

It's sloppy. It's angry. They've done this mad before, but it's always been based on differing opinions that weren't personal, weren't about _them._

This time the technique is the same -- Grantaire is biting his lip and Enjolras is harshly pushing him back further and further until they knock into something solid. The energy is entirely different than the other times, but no less intense.

Enjolras finds himself drowning in it, as he always does. He doesn't even know what he's pushed Grantaire against, just that there's this nagging thought in the back of his head that he can't quite pinpoint but that urges him further into Grantaire's space. He's trying desperately to meld them together, and if Grantaire's answering moan is anything to go off of, he agrees with the intent.

Enjolras somehow manages to peel himself away far enough to cram a leg between Grantaire's, and it's immediately rolled down onto. They both break the searing kiss to make echoing sounds of half-anger half-pleasure. There's a growling undertone to Grantaire's voice, and Enjolras isn't sure what his own voice is doing, but that doesn't matter, because he needs to hear that noise again.

He tries to leverage Grantaire towards _any_ horizontal surface, but he seems determined to stay where he is, vibrant blue eyes glaring intently at Enjolras. They're panting into each other's mouths, and as much as Enjolras wants to lean forward and close the space between them again, he knows it's not going to get them anywhere. They're both too worked up and too stubborn, but….

Enjolras snakes his hand down Grantaire's side, gaze flicking up out of habit and mouth opening to form the words, _is this okay?_ because he always asks, but this time Grantaire _keens_ and grabs his wrist, forcibly pressing it into his pants while he grits out, "hurry _up."_

Enjolras listens. He stops with the hesitation and roughly takes Grantaire in hand, moving at a punishing pace that they both feel, and normally they would lean against each other, but this time, Grantaire starts pushing Enjolras back while he's distracted.

Oh, they had been up against the living room wall, and suddenly they are in their room and on the bed and Grantaire has a wicked, slanting grin on his face as he presses Enjolras harder against the mattress. 

He pushes back, but Grantaire has the upper hand, and is definitely stronger than Enjolras, despite his height, so he lets go and returns the grin. It's not the normal dopey smile they wear on their faces when they do this. It's something sharp, and they're both trying to break the other.

Grantaire keeps one hand spread over Enjolras' thigh, grip bruising, as if to say "stay put," before he easily pulls off both their pants and boxers, leaving their shirts, which is also something they never do -- Enjolras loves to trail his fingers and mouth over every part of Grantaire's body -- but he's not complaining, and neither is his body.

Grantaire angles him a knowing look when he returns from tossing their clothes and retrieving lube, and Enjolras blushes furiously, baring his teeth. "Don't you dare," he hisses, reaching out with his free hand to remind Grantaire that they're both in the same position.

Grantaire lets him, but it turns into something slow after the first few harsh strokes, and Enjolras rolls up into him when Grantaire presses down.

He presses the advantage and leans up for a kiss that starts off messy and stays that way, their breaths coalescing into one and speeding up Enjolras' pace, though it eventually turns into them artlessly rutting against each other, and Enjolras stills Grantaire's shoulders after a moment.

He's hesitant to break the kiss, but he does anyway, his eyes sparking. He could come just like this, with his emotions on high, with his entire being buzzing like it can't sort itself out, but Grantaire grabbed lube for a _reason,_ and he wants to know that reason as much as he doesn't want to end this night like a couple of teenagers.

At the thought, he realizes he doesn't want to end the night at all, but that can be an issue for Future Enjolras.

(Future Enjolras is going to be so, so pissed.)

He searches Grantaire's gaze, but his eyes are closed, so Enjolras finds the discarded bottle and presses it into Grantaire's grip. He squirms in place, letting out a whine at the arousal the small amount of friction sends down his spine, and that seems to startle Grantaire into action. 

He lets out a noise like he was punched and then, with deft fingers, he reacquaints his mouth with Enjolras' while also sliding his hand down, down, down.

It's a show of dominance, and he's not the one who started it but he's the one who's going to win, because Enjolras lets him. He melts into it, encourages him with breathy sounds of pleasure and quiet words of encouragement.

By the time Grantaire's gotten two fingers worked inside of him, Enjolras is barely present anymore. He's trying to hold on because he wants _more,_ but it's so hard with so many emotions washing over him, and it all just boils down to him needing Grantaire.

He lets out a sob, and those blazing blue eyes turn to him, softening towards worry, but he shakes his head, because it will break him if Grantaire shifts from being overwhelmingly angry at him to being concerned for him and he _knows_ it could happen in the blink of an eye, he _knows_ Grantaire loves him, so he says, "No, don't stop, please, never stop," as clearly as he can with emotion threatening to choke him. He doesn't know what he means, but he doesn't care.

Instead, he grabs Grantaire's hand with a fierceness he didn't know he had in him and wraps a leg around his back. "Please," he says, looking up at Grantaire, and not being specific because he knows he doesn't need to be, knows Grantaire will press into him like he does. 

Enjolras sighs, and tears keep getting in the way of him _seeing._ He needs to see this, and he needs to _remember_ it. He needs to capture Grantaire and his beauty as much as he possibly can, and he also needs him to _move._

He repeats that, out loud, just the command, "Move." 

Grantaire does.

He does, and there's something shiny about his eyes too, but Enjolras doesn't dwell on it. He just pulls him in for a kiss again, hoping it will soothe the ache in his throat, and it does, but with every push and pull against each other he feels himself slipping closer and closer to the edge and this time, he's happy to embrace it.

He breaks their kiss to gasp out a breath and press his hand lightly behind Grantaire's ear, a signal they always use to say they're close. 

Grantaire laughs in response, voice coming out rough when he says, "Me too."

With that confirmed, Enjolras relinquishes the last of his control and lets go, angling upwards against Grantaire as a wave of euphoria sweeps over him. He finally feels like he's close enough, like he's melded himself to Grantaire, and that's all he really needs. 

When he comes down, still panting and trying to process reality, he sees Grantaire's eyes lock onto his and immediately soften and then he comes with a silent gasp, blue eyes flickering shut for a brief moment. It's beautiful. He's beautiful, and Enjolras can't tear his gaze away.

Grantaire's arms give out, and he slumps against him, and Enjolras doesn't have the willpower to demand they clean up. He doesn't have the willpower to let Grantaire leave him just yet, either, so he just gently pushes Grantaire to the other side of the bed so he can roll over and press his face into his shoulder.

He hums, pleased and surrounded by Grantaire's calming scent and breathing and heartbeat, and immediately passes out.

\---

After, after Grantaire has done that thing where he slips away completely unnoticed by a sleeping Enjolras, despite him being the lightest sleeper he knows, Enjolras wakes up.

He wakes up, and it's sudden, and he tries to snatch back the lingering fragments of his dream.

It's like capturing spilled sunlight: he fuzzily recalls having followed Grantaire through the streets until they stumbled onto a park, and they had laid down on the grass, and watched the sun set, and -- Enjolras realizes with a start that the dream was an echo of a memory. It glossed over details, but...they had done that, one day. 

And the clearest part of that memory -- he's recalling the memory now -- was how Grantaire looked at him, like there was nothing else in the world that captured his attention quite like Enjolras. He remembers Grantaire tucking a stray curl behind Enjolras' ear, still with that look on his face, and he remembers how he had kissed that look off his face because it had been too overwhelming. 

It still is, but Enjolras always knew Grantaire was in love with him -- they had started their relationship with him knowing -- and the dream made him realize he might return those feelings.

He sits up straight in bed, and then he remembers more.

_"Fuck,"_ he says, with feeling.

\---

"Courf," Enjolras starts, running his fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. He's not stressed. "Courf, shit, what do I do?"

Courfeyrac's exhale is staticky through the phone's receiver. Enjolras is starting to think maybe he's called the wrong friend, but the person he really wants to talk to is Grantaire, and that's not an option. 

Before he can say anything, Enjolras cuts in with, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have unloaded all of this on you, it's really personal and probably not something you want to deal with--"

"Enj, stop. Stop the panic-ranting. I'm glad you called. And we've always been involved in your relationship, whether we wanted to be or not." He doesn't have to say that "we" means Les Amis, honourary members alike.

Courfeyrac is using short sentences, but he never clips his words like Combeferre does when he's agitated, which means he's cutting his usually rambling tendencies short for Enjolras' benefit and...it does calm him. He's able to take a breath and not feel utterly overwhelmed and manages a careful, "Okay."

"Okay, so, you fought with Grantaire. It was really bad. And then what, you had such mind-blowing break-up sex you realized you love him?"

Courf's teasing doesn't quite pull a laugh out of Enjolras -- it expresses itself as more of a whine, but he appreciates the effort, and he's sure he'll find it funny someday. Probably. 

"No, I think I knew ages ago, I just didn't want to admit it to myself." Enjolras frowns and sits up from where he had been sprawled dramatically on his couch. "I think...I think admitting that there were always going to be flaws in our relationship made me realize I didn't care and wanted him anyway? Like, all of it, even with all the messy details attached."

Enjolras never uses colloquialisms. "Like" is not a part of his vocabulary, but he thinks he might be Having A Time, as the friend group puts it. 

He thinks he can feel Courf trying to put his hand on his shoulder through the phone. "Yeah, that's what it's like to love someone. I can't believe Enjolras, king of not knowing his own emotions, actually got this one right." His tone is both wistful and teasing, and Enjolras knows he's thinking about his own relationships. Courfeyrac was always the one who jumped from fling to fling until he suddenly invested all his devotion in one person, so he's had his fair share of experience in loving people.

"I always have the worst timing when it comes to feelings, don't I?" Enjolras lays back down on the couch, but this time he's a little less pathetic about it and a little more contemplative.

"I mean, I'm not gonna lie to you, yes, you do, but that doesn't mean there isn't a way forward from here. I know you guys broke up, but it was the silent mutual agreement type, right? So what if you don't agree? Just...go make him believe in you, Enjolras. That's your thing."

Enjolras suddenly feels overwhelmed again, his throat tightening around some combination of emotions he can't name. "He never believed in anything I believe in, and...that's what I love about us, but I...I can't," he manages to choke out, willing himself forcefully not to cry. Not over the phone.

"Okay, E, stay right there, I'm on my way and I'm gonna stay on the line and narrate everything I'm doing as I do it, and you're going to listen until I get there and I can hug you properly like you deserve and then we can cry it out in all the ways they do in those cheesy movies you hate, okay?"

Enjolras nods. He stays on the line, and Courfeyrac stays true to his word.

\---

"Okay, so, you know you can't just avoid this forever, right?" Courfeyrac is back to his normal speech patterns now that Enjolras is no longer hiding in his blanket and staring into space. Now he's being miserable out in the open, and Courf isn't helping him feel better anymore, and he feels _betrayed._

"I'm just saying," he continues, brandishing an ice cream spoon to emphasize his speech, "that you should go talk to him. Like, okay, yeah, you said something hurtful, but you've done that lots of times! You gotta know he knows you don't mean it. Or, if he does think that, then you'll find a way to convince him otherwise. Because you didn't mean it." Courfeyrac levels him with a look that says, _you didn't, right?_

Enjolras sits up, his eyes almost lighting up with an idea. "Actually, that's the problem. I've hurt him before, but not like this. The last time I said something along those lines, I didn't even consider us friends. And I wouldn't do that to a stranger now, which makes it even worse that I did it to my _boyfriend._ I...god, I want to tell him that we're not good for each other in the best way. How do I do that, though, and make him believe me?" Enjolras let out a frustrated whine. "He never believes me when it comes to feelings."

At Courfeyrac's disbelieving snort, Enjolras waves his hands and continues. "I'm serious! I told him that I love his cooking and he just laughed. I thought it was self-deprecation at the time, which it may have been a bit, but I just...I don't think he believes me when I talk about emotion, only when I'm the leader of a cause to follow."

Courf pulls the spoon out of his mouth and points it at him. "Then show him, don't tell him."

\---

Enjolras is not the type of person to mope. He doesn't. So when Courfeyrac leaves, he stands up and puts himself to use and makes some coffee so he can stew with his thoughts for a moment.

And then he puts those thoughts into action. 

Enjolras doesn't mope; he acts. He settles himself down at his desk, turns his favourite upbeat music on, and starts writing.

This is something he's good at. Despite his speeches sounding spur of the moment, they're always pre-written and memorized, which is something he's also good at. But this doesn't need memorizing. It's a list, and lists are better read than spoken, and besides, if it's a tangible object, then it's that much more believable.

And it needs to be believable.

\---

Once it's written, he prints it off, despite the itching urge to read through it again and edit. He knows there aren't any grammar or spelling errors, and if he keeps running through it, it'll start to lose its effectiveness. He has the same issue with effusive speeches -- they always sound better when he's done as few revisions as possible, despite him thinking otherwise.

Or so he's been told.

In this case, Enjolras decides to listen to his friends (and Grantaire), and he simply gets up, grabs the papers he needs, and leaves.

When he gets to Éponine's, he's feeling considerably more nervous. He knows from multiple sources that she's out for the day and that Grantaire is there, and he could have at least deduced the last part on his own, but that isn't a calming thought somehow. Enjolras isn't _good_ at apologies. But this deserves a strong one, and he needs to explain, and he's not about to back out of it now, so he collects his resolve and knocks.

When Grantaire answers the door, he looks just about as miserable as Enjolras feels, but that doesn't stop him from trying to slam the door in Enjolras' face.

"Wait," he pleads, moving his arm to block the door despite Grantaire immediately stopping. "Wait, R, just...read this. Please."

There must be something about his expression that convinces him or something, because Grantaire just heaves a sigh and waves Enjolras in, not moving to take the papers he's been presented but not kicking Enjolras out either.

From the look on his face, Enjolras thinks maybe it's just that he's too tired to do anything but relent. He certainly looks it. 

Grantaire raises an eyebrow, effectively saying, "well?"

Enjolras nods and walks in carefully, closing the door gently behind him. There's an air of expectation in the room, so he quietly offers the pages he's holding again and says, "I know I went about things the wrong way with us, and that I took advantage of what you were willing to give, and I want to fix that. If I can. Because you're worth it to me. And I thought I'd tell you the reasons why, but there are too many to say, so...here."

The pages are taken with a look of confusion, but it quickly turns into the expression Grantaire gets on his face when he's focusing.

Enjolras doesn't watch him, instead looking down awkwardly and fiddling with the hem of his shirt. The fact that he's cool and composed in public is merely because he prepares for things ahead of time. For this, he's nervous.

A breath being let out breaks the silence and lets him know Grantaire has finished reading. It's enough for Enjolras to look up, because he needs to gauge Grantaire's reaction. He needs to know.

There's still confusion on Grantaire's face, though it's softened by a look of fondness that Enjolras is used to. He takes a step forward, and that seems to break the moment Grantaire was caught in, because he breathes out, "What is this?" 

His voice is shaky, and wavering, but there's resolve behind it.

It feels weird to say this and not be touching while he does, but it doesn't matter. "It's a list of all the reasons why I love you."

Grantaire looks hurt again, but he doesn't try to cover it up this time. "Oh, so we're fine for each other, then?" He says, sarcasm cutting.

Enjolras takes another small step closer. "No," he says, and when did his voice get so wobbly? "We're not. And I don't care. We're not good for each other, or we shouldn't be, but we work somehow anyway, and my life wouldn't be the same without you in it, and…" His voice breaks, and he realizes belatedly that there are tears in his eyes. He dashes them away furiously. "Please tell me you feel the same."

Grantaire looks away, his mouth twisting. "What, that I'd tear down the idea of who should and who shouldn't date with you? Or that I love you? Because both of those answers shouldn't really come as a surprise to you, E." 

Enjolras gently takes Grantaire's jaw in his hands and tips his face forward, meeting his eyes before saying, "I know, but it's your choice. If you think it's the right thing to do, I'll walk away right now. If you don't want to continue this after what I said, I'll--"

"Don't. I think...we just need to do this more. I...I haven't been that forthright with my feelings while we've been dating, because I was afraid I'd scare you off with all my proclamations of love. It was fine when I didn't mean it, or I was pretending I didn't, and I was just flirting to get a rise out of you, but I bottled that all up once we started dating, and I was honestly getting so tired of it. Not of you, Enjolras, never of you, because I've been in love with you for years and I don't see that changing anytime soon, but I was sick of hiding it from you and simultaneously afraid of what it would do if I decided to stop. I'm so, so afraid to stop, Enjolras. You're so much, and the idea of you scares me so much."

Now _Grantaire_ is crying, and Enjolras is swiping away the tears and holding onto his cheeks as he sobs. "It's okay," he says, voice broken but fiercely determined. "It's okay, change can be good, it can."

"Like your dumb activist group, right? How you all preach that you can evoke change, and think you can change the world for the better?" Grantaire's laughing through the tears now, his insults coming off more as endearment, and though his voice is weak, there's a note of teasing in it.

"Yes, like that. We can change it for the better, R." He leans into the half embrace and brings their foreheads together, feeling the exhale of tension Grantaire lets out at the contact.

"I love your optimism," he says, and that's only the start.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me about fictional revolutionaries on [twitter](https://twitter.com/featherstorm77)


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